


Now, Our Bodies Are the Guilty Ones

by blainedarling



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:24:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blainedarling/pseuds/blainedarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for an anon prompt on tumblr: seblaine and st berry doing a broadway show</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now, Our Bodies Are the Guilty Ones

**i. The Auditions**  

Blaine Anderson adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, pushing open the door firmly. His breath hitched, taking in the walls of Broadway posters that lined the corridor down to the set of elevators, the bright colours shining at him almost like an omen. It felt like everything he'd ever been dreaming of, the soft soles of his shoes padding over the carpet of the very first Broadway office he'd ever been in.

 

He only registered the shaking of his hands when he reached out to press the button for the elevator, starting at the shriek of a girl who was running towards him.   
"Hold the elevator, please!" she cried, drawing to a stop beside him. She was just a little shorter than he was, with pretty brown eyes and long hair pulled back into a bun, a velvet headband keeping it from falling out of place.

 

"Thank you," she smiled, letting out a small sigh of relief before tucking a non existent stray hair behind her ear. She sized him up as they stepped into the elevator together, hands bumping awkwardly as they both reached for the button at the same time.

 

"Are you here for the open call?" she asked finally, turning her full doe eyed gaze onto Blaine. There was an air of confidence that seemed to drift about her shoulders, and the only reason Blaine had to believe that she wasn't a seasoned professional was from the way she kept nervously fiddling with the strap of her bag.

 

He nodded, digging his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants nervously. "Yeah, I'm just auditioning for chorus, though."  
She shook her head furiously, leaning forward to grip onto his arm so tightly that he wouldn't have been surprised if there were finger marks left behind. "Don't do that, never audition for chorus. You have to make them believe that you are the best, you have to audition for the lead."

 

He chewed on his lip for a moment - he could see her point, truly, and it wasn't even so much the nerves eating at the lining of his stomach so much as the belief that main parts should not (and would not) go to newbies. "I'll think about it," he promised her after a moment, a smile lingering on the corner of his lips. "I'm Blaine."

 

"Rachel Berry," she replied, accompanying her greeting with another squeeze to his arm before she finally let go.   
She flounced ahead of Blaine out of the elevator, and maybe it was the fact that Blaine had managed to make one ally already, or maybe just her confidence rubbing off on him, but as he followed behind, he couldn't help but note the increased spring in his step.

 

The corridor was lined with people, from those that looked as much a first timer as he was, to others whose resume could quite easily span years of on-Broadway work. Rachel was frantically patting the empty chair next to her, a few other auditionees nearby casting her irritated glares. 

 

As Blaine sat down, the door to the audition room at the other end of the corridor creaked open, a slightly older boy, wearing a denim jacket that should have been ten years out of date but somehow suited him, stepped out. 

 

His smile bordered on cocky, more than confident, as he reluctantly moved to the side to let the next person in, before making his way down the line. His feet stilled as he neared the end, his gaze fixed on Rachel.  
"Cute headband," he grinned, casting Blaine just a cursory nod before heading towards the elevator that they'd recently exited from.

 

Rachel's cheeks were the colour of a beetroot, her hand coming up to touch the headband once before it settled back into her lap.   
"Do you know him?" Blaine asked politely, glancing once more over at the boy as he stepped into the elevator and out of sight.  
Rachel shook her head, her cheeks burning even darker as she looked down at her lap. "No, not really, I mean- I know of him, but he wouldn't know me."

 

Blaine frowned, wondering if he, too, should know who the mystery boy was.  
"He's a really big deal at the school I go to," she explained, clearing her throat and smoothing down the material of her leggings, as if taking the time to compose herself. "NYADA," she added, the hint of pride in her voice clear as day.

 

_Of course._  NYADA, the most prestigious performing arts school in the city, the school Blaine would have been attending right at that moment if his application for financial aid hadn't been denied. It had been the worst kind of fate; getting through the rigorous application process and gaining a place only to find out he couldn't possibly afford to.

 

With similar issues with his safety schools, none of which appealed much to him, anyway, he had been left with two choices. He could stay in Ohio and pick up a few classes at the community college, while living at home and saving money from his part time job to hopefully one day go to a real school. Or, he could move to New York anyway, with the little he had saved, find a crumbling, shoebox apartment and hopefully make enough to be able to eat.

 

He'd taken the latter, the idea of staying at home while all of his friends left too oppressing to bear, and with his parents' blessing had taken off on his own. Starbucks didn't exactly pay well, but it was enough - and it afforded him the opportunity to attend auditions like this in the hopes that he could get his lucky break into the theatre world a different way.

 

Nevertheless, it was still something of a sore subject, and he lived vicariously through the Instagram posts of a former classmate who was studying there, switching up dinners for a box of cupcakes from the bakery down the street when he felt the need strike him.

 

"Blaine?" Rachel was looking at him curiously, and he shook his head as he realised that he must have zoned out for a moment. "Where do you go to school?" she repeated, nudging his shoulder affectionately.  
"I don't," he replied with a tensed smile. "I'm just a barista."

 

For a moment, it seemed as though she wanted to press the issue, but thankfully she didn't, instead digging out her phone. "I love coffee!" she beamed, and Blaine wondered idly just how many she'd had that morning. "We should exchange numbers, and I can come visit you at work sometime. Or- or somewhere else! Maybe you get bored of coffee."

 

Blaine chuckled, pulling out his own phone so they could switch before giving a small shrug. "For better or for worse, working at Starbucks has not yet cured my coffee addiction."

 

*

 

Blaine quickly learned that the wait was the worst part; in many ways, it reminded him a lot of standing outside the exam hall before his finals at school, right at that moment when everything he'd ever been taught went straight out of his head. 

 

Rachel went ahead of him, and Blaine was left alone, looking down at the endless stream of people that had arrived even later than he had. He couldn't quite hear what was going on behind the door, but he could get enough to gather that Rachel was good - really good. It was one thing to know that as a NYADA student, she was going to have talent; something else entirely to really hear it.

 

She flashed him a blinding smile as she stepped out of the room, along with a whispered promise to call soon no matter what, and then it was Blaine's turn. Four people sat across the length of a table, stacks of head shots and notes scattered in front of them.

 

"Head shot and resume," the lady on the end barked, holding out her hand expectantly.   
It was the first, and only, luxury that Blaine had allowed himself after getting to the city; and more than ever he was glad he had done so.

 

As intimidating as she seemed at first glance, it was the man at the other end that bothered Blaine more - he just seemed bored, as if he'd rather be anywhere but there. It was understandable, they'd seen dozens of hopefuls by that point, and he couldn't even begin to imagine how draining it must be. But it wasn't exactly what Blaine wanted to see from an audience, of any kind. 

 

_Well, I've just got to give them something to be interested in._

 

"My name is Blaine Anderson, and I'll be auditioning for the male lead." Passing his sheet music to the accompanist, he launched into  _Something's Coming;_  with a new musical, he had nothing to work off in terms of theme or style, so he decided a tried and tested number was the best he could do.

 

The strength of his voice increased with the flow of the music, and even the man on the end had raised his head a little so he figured he had to be doing something right. He was breathless by the time the number came to an end, adrenalin coursing through his veins and making him feel a little light headed.  _God_ , he'd missed performing.

 

"Blaine Anderson," the lady who had taken his credentials said slowly, glancing down at the page in her hand before turning her gaze onto him with a soft smile. "We'll be in touch."

 

**ii. The Callbacks**

 

There was something surreal about walking back through those same corridors, almost exactly a week since Blaine had last been there. He'd gotten the call the day before, late in the evening as he'd been doing the final clean up with an element of hysteria in his blood as he tried to get finished up so he could go home and rest his aching feet. They'd really told him no more about the production than he'd known from the offset - that was, essentially nothing.

 

That was the theatre world for you, all very hush-hush. The more hushed it was, the more chance it was on it's way to being a major success. Blaine figured he had reason to be excited, and altogether pretty nervous about his callback.

 

He could see figures within the audition room, and a quick glance of his phone saw that he was early, anyway. The twitchy sensation in the pit of his stomach was back, and he couldn't even bring himself to sit down, rather shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to get the blood flowing in his stiff legs. He was secretly hoping, in a slightly paradoxical way, that he would never work in Starbucks long enough to get used to the strain of standing around all day, every day.

 

His head snapped up as the door creaked open, Rachel stepping out with a flush on her cheeks and a broad smile on her lips. "Blaine!" she beamed, skipping forward to give him a brief, but firm hug. "I just read for the female lead!" she whispered into his ear, as if there were anyone in the nearby vicinity besides him that didn't already know that. Her scene partner stepped out of the room from behind her, just visible through the locks of dark hair that Blaine's face was buried in. 

 

"That's..incredible," he replied, and as genuine as his smile was, it didn't quite meet his eyes. Because if she had just read for the female lead, presumably alongside the man she was with reading for the male, then..where was his scene partner? He let out a breath, shaking the feeling aside. It didn't matter who he was reading for, he had a callback, didn't he?

 

"Rachel," the man called as he strode forward, his hand settling on her waist as she drew back from the embrace. "How about that lunch?"  
As Rachel blushed and mumbled out a reply, Blaine took a moment to take in the other man; recognising him after a moment as the Jesse she'd told him about the week before. That explained her flustered nature, then.

 

He supposed he could see the appeal: hair styled back into a very Elvis-era style; confidence oozing from his pores; and eyes that seemed to sparkle. "Blaine Anderson," he said brightly, offering out his hand. No harm in building up a good rapport with someone who could, potentially, become his co-worker.

 

"Jesse St James," he replied coolly, and Blaine had to be impressed with himself for not blushing himself at the silky smooth tone of his voice. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

 

The corridor didn't allow well for passing by, Blaine ending up pressed against the wall as he tried to let the other two to step away from the door and towards the elevator. Somehow, in this fumble, a new body was added into the mix, and it was only once Blaine was moving forward into the audition room that he really noticed the presence of the boy behind him. 

 

"Oh, good, you're both here." It was the lady from the first audition, who was offering out a selection of pages to them with an air of impatience.   
Blaine glanced behind him quickly as he put two and two together, doing a double take as a striking pair of emerald eyes met his own for half a second.

 

He didn't have time to process, however, his brain quickly snapping into gear as he skim read the top page of the script excerpt he'd been given. It wouldn't hit him until later, that he was one of an elite group of people to get to view even a snippet of the script before the show began to go public, and that was a sensation he'd never forget. 

 

"Just sit yourselves as naturally as possible in the centre of the room, there," the dozy man from the first audition directed, gesturing to the floor. "Take a couple of minutes to read it through, and maybe get to know each other's names, at least." He accompanied the final instruction with a slightly gaudy wink to the two of them as they sat down.

 

Blaine chuckled uncertainly, drawing his legs up underneath him as he finally allowed himself a proper look at the man he was auditioning with. He was staring right back, his head tilted in curiosity, one eyebrow raised as his gaze flickered over Blaine's body.   
"Sebastian Smythe," he grinned, the action making dimples draw up in his cheeks.

 

The other man introduced himself right back, the nape of his neck heating up with the intensity of Sebastian's gaze. It certainly didn't help that he was gorgeous, his cheekbones and jawline sharp as ice, his casual grey shirt gaping open at the collar to reveal a smattering of freckles. 

 

"Suitably acquainted?" the man at the front asked, and his tone reminded Blaine that he had yet to figure out what his earlier implication had been.  
That was, until Blaine really looked down at the lines on the page in front of him, taking in the first one highlighted in a piercing green.

ERNST  
On my way here this afternoon, I thought perhaps, we'd only talk.

...

HANSCHEN  
So, are you sorry we...?   
 _(He trails off suggestively)_

_Well, then._

 

*

 

It had been four days since the callback, and Blaine hadn't heard a thing. Not from the casting team, and certainly not from Sebastian. Sebastian, who he wasn't even entirely sure why he had given his number to except that he was smiling at him like the Cheshire Cat and somehow Blaine couldn't resist. 

 

Sebastian, who was tall and beautiful and so sure of himself. Sebastian, who had leaned in so close as they'd played the scene that he could pick up hints of his cologne, as well as the minty tang of his breath. Sebastian, who Blaine had absolutely not thought about in the shower that morning, one hand wrapped lazily around himself as the water beat down around him.

 

Sebastian, who had caused a completely involuntary flush to come to his cheeks as they'd said their lines. Not that the casting team had seemed to mind that; in fact, they'd seemed pretty pleased with the two of them, or, at least, that's how it had come across from where Blaine was sitting.

 

In all honesty, from what he'd been able to pick up from the excerpt of the script, along with a few hints the team had given away in the moments before they'd left, the parts had seemed to fit them perfectly. Sebastian Smythe, cool and suave, while he sat and bumbled and blushed. And hopefully looked at least a little cute doing it.

 

But maybe that's what all the boys thought; a scattering of them across the city, tapping their fingers off an equally sticky coffee counter and daydreaming about their perfect part that they were just bound to get. 

 

He looked up as a sharp gust of air hit his cheek, the door swinging shut behind Rachel who was barreling towards him. Her visits were becoming more and more regular, but, thankfully, Blaine found it endearing rather than irritating. At least, for the moment.

 

"Where's your phone? Have they called?" she snapped hurriedly, but her cheeks were glowing and her eyes bright. She'd had a call, that's why she was asking. She knew  _something,_  she had to.

 

"I.." he shrugged helplessly, and noting that his boss wasn't around, he dug his phone out from his slacks.  _One new voicemail_ flashed across the screen and he could barely get it to his ear, his hands were shaking so badly. 

 

_Please don't just be my mother, please don't just be my mother..._

 

Whether Rachel was telepathic, or because she really had known something he hadn't when she'd stormed in, Blaine wasn't sure. But by the time he'd rung off, storing the voicemail into his archive to keep for-fucking- _ever_ , she had gracefully launched herself onto the counter.

 

"Ladies and gentleman, here's one for the history books! Myself and your favourite barista, Blaine-" She turned to him, ushering him up, and safe in the knowledge that he had a job for the foreseeable future even if he did get fired for this, he joined her.   
Satisfied, Rachel turned back to her half bemused, half frustrated audience with a grin. "You are looking at two members of the next major Broadway smash!"

 

Blaine smiled around, a slight buzzing in his ears as he tried to overcome his mildly dazed state. "I wonder if Sebastian got it," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else - and then his boss hauled him off the counter to hand in his apron.

 

_Oops._

 

**iii. The Rehearsals**

 

The first few weeks of rehearsals were a sort of intensity that Blaine couldn't ever have prepared himself for: twelve hour days of harmonies, movements, positioning and sitting around. There was a lot of sitting around, and weirdly, that was the most exhausting part of all.

 

Because whether he was just sitting or actively involved, he couldn't switch off even for a second, not with the structure of the musical being such that they all sat on three sides of the acting area during the entire performance. He'd lost count of the amount of times he'd stood up with one or both ass cheeks completely numb.

 

Blaine had quickly become quite close with most of the other cast members; many of them Broadway virgins just as he was, and a reassuring amount of those far more nervous than he. But there was one who remained somewhat of a mystery to Blaine.

 

Sebastian, who, in theory, he should have been closest with out of everyone. But the man was somewhat of an enigma: he rarely joined in the idle chatter of the group, rather sitting by himself during breaks, tapping out rhythms on his thigh. He turned up to rehearsals alone and was out of the door at the end of the day before most people had even managed to drag themselves to their feet.

 

The only person he'd really been seen talking to more than once was Jesse - and that Thursday was one such day. There was a holiday weekend coming up, so it would be their last rehearsal until Tuesday, a welcome rest for all of them. 

 

Blaine sat across the room with Rachel, who was thumbing through the first few pages of Act Two, that they'd just been going through, closing her eyes every now and again to mumble lines under her breath. Perhaps he was a little open in his staring of the tall, slim man across the room, or, at least, when Rachel next looked up she called him out on it within seconds.

 

"Why don't you just go and talk to him?" She gave him a gentle nudge of encouragement. "You're going to have to do a lot more than that soon enough."  
"Don't remind me," Blaine muttered, heat flaring across his cheeks for a moment before settling.

 

So far, they hadn't got as far as blocking through their short scene, although they'd run the dialogue a few times. It wasn't that Blaine particularly rejected the idea of having to kiss Sebastian, he had  _eyes_ , after all.

 

But  _Spring Awakening_  was a racy show, to say the least - Jesse's hands had ended up on Rachel's chest in rehearsal number two, not that she'd seemed to mind. Rachel had the ability to take a completely professional stand point on the entire thing, saving her embarrassed squeaks for the privacy of takeout nights at Blaine's apartment. 

 

The two of them became close quickly, Jesse and Rachel, and there was already a pool on how long it would take before the dry humping moved out of the rehearsal room. Some people were sure it already had; but Blaine knew for a fact that they hadn't so much as kissed, as themselves, yet.

 

The point was, he'd watched for weeks as the director and his assistant pushed the boundaries for what they could show on stage, and he wasn't so naive to believe that it would be any different when it came to him and Sebastian. 

 

Blaine was scared, it was as simple as that. Intimacy, as a concept, scared him; and, so far, he hadn't come up with any way to separate what happened between the four walls of the rehearsal space and within the real world around it. To him, it was one and the same, and the thought of Sebastian's hands pushing up his thighs in front of their cast members often had him sitting up late into the night, a searing migraine pulsing behind his eyes. 

 

He'd been intimate before, to some extent, with his high school boyfriend, Sam. Sam had been sweet and good to him, and he'd gone along with the things they'd done to make him happy, but he'd never really felt comfortable doing any of it.

 

And it wasn't that he hadn't fantasised as much as the next teenage boy about fucking and getting fucked, rocking into the circle of his fist as sweat seeped out of his pores. But the reality? That was a wall yet to be broken down.

 

_His hands ached where they were gripping the side of the bed, his body feeling achingly bare but he couldn't bring himself to reach for his clothes that were scattered across the floor.  
_ _"Blaine, it's okay if you don't want to. We can just get each other off, like usual."_

 

_Blaine let out a breath, the dead weight across his shoulders settling, more than falling free. "Okay," he whispered, and turned back to greet Sam's lips, a familiar heat against his own._

 

Apparently, fate was not on Blaine's side that Thursday. The rehearsal got pulled back into motion with a swift clap of the director's hands, his script tucked under one arm. "Carrying on with Act Two, let's move into the Ernst and Hanschen scene."

 

Rachel squeezed Blaine's arm reassuringly, flashing him a wide grin as he moved to meet Sebastian in the centre of the light, wooden floor. The director quickly outlined the set up; and before Blaine had even really processed what he was suggesting, Sebastian's body was pressing into his own, his legs being parted to accommodate the other man between them.

 

Blaine flinched, a knee jerk reaction more than anything, giving Sebastian a firm push to his chest, which sent him toppling backwards. His hand hit the floor with a smack, and the room fell painfully silent.

 

His heart thudded, pounding up to his ears as he looked between his scene partner and the director. He opened his mouth to say something, quickly snapping it shut again as embarrassment welled up over him.

 

"Let's go again," Sebastian said firmly, that time taking a little more time in relaxing himself down over Blaine.  
Blaine still wanted to push him off, to throw him back and to run far,  _far_  from the oppressive pressure of everyone's eyes on the two of them. On him. He clenched his fingers into fists, squeezing his eyes shut as Sebastian's lips found his.

 

_I can do this. I can._

 

The director didn't push it, letting them run it twice, both equally as bad where Blaine was stiff and tense, reciting his lines like an automaton more than a living, breathing human being. But Blaine knew he wasn't getting off with it so easily: this wasn't a high school production, this was Broadway. If he couldn't do the part, there were hundreds of other boys to fill his place at a snap of the fingers. 

 

Even once the rehearsal was over, however, the director said nothing to him, calling Sebastian over instead. Blaine whipped his head back to where he was standing with Jesse and Rachel, their talk floating over him as he stared at his feet. 

 

"Blaine, you should come with us."  
Blaine's head snapped up because it was one of the few things Sebastian had ever said to him, directly, that wasn't part of the script.   
"I won't take no for an answer," Sebastian smirked, his eyes seemingly filled with flecks of gold as he turned his head momentarily towards the wide window, the evening sun catching them in their rays.

 

And although Blaine had no idea what he was even agreeing to, he found himself nodding, and a minute smile tugging at his lips. "Okay."

 

*

 

What he'd agreed to, it turned out, was a night out, accompanied by a fake ID he'd never used outside of Ohio and feared would get him nowhere in a city like New York. As it was, the bouncer was even less interested than Blaine was used to; although that might have had something to do with the fifty he saw Sebastian slip him, to cover him and Rachel. The underagers. 

 

He wasn't really sure what Sebastian's plan had been in insisting that he come with them, but he hoped that maybe if he could get to know him a little better, that he wouldn't freeze up every time he touched him.

 

Sebastian and Jesse kept the alcohol flowing, and Blaine quickly noted that Rachel's tolerance level was about the same as his. It took all of three rounds before Blaine glanced to his side to find Rachel in Jesse's lap.

 

"Looks like I'm winning the cast pool," Sebastian commented with a wide grin.  
Blaine raised an eyebrow in surprise; given how anti social Sebastian seemed at rehearsals, he wouldn't have thought he'd even know about the bet. 

 

"I pay more attention that you realise, Blaine," he added, as if he'd read his mind. Before Blaine could respond, Sebastian was slipping his hand through his and tugging him out of the booth.   
"Come on. Three's a crowd, four's a  _drag_."

 

They found themselves in the middle of the crowded dance floor, Sebastian's hands settling chastely on Blaine's waist, keeping him close more than anything else. Blaine let out a breath, the alcohol helping him to relax into the touch, his own arms looping hesitantly around Sebastian's shoulders.

 

"So, it's not me," Sebastian whispered, his breath hot against Blaine's ear as he ducked down. He whirled Blaine around in his arms, pulling him firmly back against his chest, hips meeting his ass with the rhythm of the music. 

 

Blaine gasped as he felt the outline of Sebastian's cock against the crack of his ass, his stomach swirling as his hands drifted round to his stomach.   
"I thought maybe you just didn't like me touching you, but clearly that's not it," Sebastian continued, chuckling lowly.

 

And it was his fingers looping into Blaine's belt hoops that had him lurching, tugging free from Sebastian's embrace and pushing through the crowd towards the entrance, in desperate need of cool, fresh air.

 

When he made it out, he couldn't seem to get his feet to stop moving; not until he was around the side lane by the club, alone, with the cold stone in front of him to support his weight. For a moment or so, it was quiet, save for the bustle of traffic out in the main street - and then, unwanted footsteps approaching him.

 

Sebastian didn't say anything, just placing his hand between Blaine's shoulder blades, in lieu of an apology that the shorter man wasn't particularly interested in hearing anyway. 

 

"Its not you," Blaine murmured finally, pushing back from the wall and running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I want you to be able to touch me." He flushed as he realised how that may have sounded, before letting out a sigh of frustration as Sebastian snorted. "You know what I mean."

 

Sebastian cleared his throat, humming as he looked at Blaine carefully. "I have an idea. Come with me."  
Blaine was too drained to protest, the effects of the alcohol starting to wear off significantly as he was dragged down a maze of streets. He thought briefly of Jesse and Rachel, feeling guilty for just abandoning his friend; although, he wouldn't have been surprised if she hadn't even noticed he was gone.

 

The place they eventually stopped at was a small set of steps; nothing seemingly significant or special about them from Blaine's point of view. Sebastian guided him up the first three, before taking his place at the bottom.

 

"I want you to fall back."  
Blaine started, looking back over his shoulder in horror. "You're  _drunk_. I'm not doing that."  
Sebastian just smiled up at him calmly. "Just trust me, Blaine. Trust that I'll catch you."

 

Blaine knew that, rationally, he had no reason to trust this man. He barely knew him, and in the time they had spent together, he had either said nothing or had tried to get it on with him in public.

 

But there was something in his eyes, those golden flecks reappearing with the headlights of a passing car, that made him want to let go and just trust, as Sebastian had said.

 

So, not knowing why, and maybe just because he was a little drunk, too, he let himself fall back into Sebastian's waiting arms. He let out a breathless laugh, tilting his head up to look at the other man, who had a firm grasp on his compact frame.

 

"I told you," Sebastian whispered, and then his lips were finding his, and Blaine was sure he'd never wanted anyone, or anything, more.

 

The next week, when they rehearsed the scene again, Sebastian cupped Blaine's ass in one hand and the only thing the shorter man was resisting was popping a semi hard on in front of the entire cast and half of the creative team.

 

**iv. Opening Night**

 

Even in the following weeks, when trusting Sebastian became more and more natural to Blaine, he wondered - sometimes aloud, to the other man - how it was. How it could be that he had so openly come to trust someone who had been nothing but a stranger a few weeks back; when in all the years he'd known his ex-boyfriend he'd never quite managed it. 

 

Sebastian's theory was that trust was an inherent, instantaneous kind of thing; either you trusted someone from the offset or you didn't, and there was no way to change it once it was there. 

 

Whether Sebastian was right or wrong, Blaine didn't really care. All he cared about was that at the end of a long day of rehearsing, he often got to return home with a gorgeous boy next to him on the subway, only to fall into bed together at the end of the night.

 

Blaine thought that maybe he was falling in love with Sebastian, and as much as it threw him off balance, he didn't wish it away in the slightest. He'd thought he'd loved Sam, but every day that seemed more and more to him, in hindsight, as puppy love - as opposed to anything strong, and real, like this was.

 

He looked up from his own reflection in the mirror as Sebastian appeared in the doorway, his face comically orange from the stage make up, in what was natural lighting, from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling.

 

"I came to give you a break-a-leg kiss," Sebastian announced as he stepped into the room, clicking the door shut behind him. "But Stacey said if I ruin my make up again she'll cut off my balls."

 

Blaine rolled his eyes: the head of the make up department had been on the both of them after the dress rehearsal when they'd gotten a little carried away in the props closet before curtain. But mostly at Sebastian, because like with their characters, she strongly believed it was the older of the men that was the bad influence. 

 

"However," Sebastian murmured lowly as he stepped forward and ran his hands over Blaine's shoulders, digging his thumbs into the blades. "I think I could risk a blowjob."  
"Rain check until after," Blaine promised, his heart fluttering slightly at Sebastian's smile.  
His boyfriend shrugged in consent, settling down into the seat next to him. 

 

Blaine turned back to the mirror, giving his cheek a rub to blend the blusher in a little more. "I take it your dressing room is getting a little crowded again?" he teased, his nerves forgotten for the moment as Sebastian groaned dramatically. 

 

"The next time him and Rachel start making out in there, under the pretense of 'rehearsing', I'm moving in here with you."  
After that night at the club, it had turned out that him and Sebastian definitely hadn't been the only pair to get a lot closer. To put it simply, the only time the two of them seemed to stop putting their tongues in each other's mouths was to sing. It was driving Sebastian, and a good portion of the cast, a little nuts.

 

The show was just starting up its preview run, at an off-off-Broadway location in the village, but the general vibe among critics was that it practically already had a place waiting for it closer to 42nd street. Which left the outcome, really, down to the strength of the cast in these first few days.

 

Sebastian seemed to be able to sense his nerves, leaning forward in the chair to prop his chin up on Blaine's shoulder. "You're going to be so great," he murmured. "I just know it."  
Blaine nearly said it then, the three words lingering on the end of his tongue. But then the five minute call came, and the timing felt wrong all over again.

 

*

Blaine could feel the applause in his veins as the cast stood in front of the audience for the curtain call. Sebastian's hand was in his at his left hand side, gripping it so tightly that he was sure he'd cut off the bloodstream; and to his right, he caught Rachel's eye. She and Jesse stood together, their smiles equally as blinding against the harsh beam of the lights. As for the few members of the audience who weren't on their feet by that time; they found their way there when Jesse swooped Rachel into his arms for a kiss.

 

Sebastian made a slight noise of disgust at Blaine's side, before it turned to a hum. Blaine knew that hum, that was the noise he made when he got an idea.  
"Don't even think about it," Blaine muttered under the corner of his mouth, thankful that he had enough make up on that no one would notice the natural blush coating his cheeks.

 

But once they made it offstage, it was Blaine that was leaping into Sebastian's arms, amid the general whoops and hollers of the cast celebrating their success. Sebastian let out a chuckle but caught Blaine smoothly; just as he had that night that felt so long ago.

 

"Bastian," Blaine murmured, pressing the tip of his nose into the taller man's. And he was ready, he was going to say it-  
"I love you," Sebastian said, catching Blaine completely off guard.  
"You stole my line," he huffed, his lips twisting up into a grin as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Sebastian's mouth. "I love you, too."

 

"Boys." They turned to come face to face with Jack, who, as director, had been going around the cast with notes straight off the bat. "Let's go for just a little more PG-13 tomorrow night. The front row got a bit of an eyeful, huh?"

 

He walked off to the next group, shaking his head in amusement, while Blaine turned back to Sebastian, who looked utterly pleased with himself. 

 

_Oops_.


End file.
